


It's Cold Outside

by the_jinxed_one



Series: Happy Ho-lidays [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a fashion snob, Drunken Shenanigans, George feels bad, M/M, Skiing, Thomas is a plot devise, alex is a brat, happy holidays, in the mountains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_jinxed_one/pseuds/the_jinxed_one
Summary: Alex wasn't anticipating a holiday in the mountains. In fact, it's the last place he wants to be even if the company is mostly nice. Things simply aren't going his way but then again, when do they ever?





	It's Cold Outside

The wind was biting and burned his lungs. His legs felt as though a small child had attached themselves to either limb as he struggled with each step. His fingers were numb and raw and the skin of his face felt as though a thousand pinpricks had been made. He had never been so cold in his life. He despised frigid temperatures. Actually, anything under a brisk fall day was pushing it.

What in the hell was he doing here?

When he got the email confirming the plans of the stay he hadn’t believed it. Most people, any person with some sense, used the winter months as an excuse to escape somewhere tropical. He would have put on a hula skirt and a done a dance to win votes if he had known that this was the hell hole he was meant to be trapped in for a week.

Seven days in a tundra. His scowl settled in further. This was some class A bullshit. He knew exactly who to curse for his misfortune too. Fucking Jefferson. Only Thomas would be a big enough asshole to secretly convince Mr. Washington that skiing would be the best choice for a company retreat. And sure, maybe Jefferson really did love to ski, or maybe he remembered Lafayette drunkenly making fun of Alex’s inability to withstand a chill at the last holiday party.

The grin on Thomas’ face was enough to validate any theories about his scheming. Alex clenched his chattering teeth and buried his icy fingers into his pockets. If he’d been a wise man, he’d have packed for the weather. Instead, he had been too busy grumbling about not wanting to go and had simply thrown things into a bag.

“Alex, you look positively miserable. Smile! It’s a holiday.” Thomas poked.

“I’ll smile when I’m not up to my ears in snow,” asshole was the tailing remark that didn’t get uttered due to surrounding company.

“Well, the rest of us are only up to our knees. We can’t help that you’re short.” Thomas shrugged and gave a poorly concealed low knuckle bump to Madison.

“And I can’t help that you’re an asshole, so I guess we’re both fucked.” He snipped and Lafayette poked him in the ribs with an elbow as he smothered a smile and tossed his head to remind that they were still here with their boss. “Sorry, sir.” he uttered more out of obligation than anything.

It wasn’t like George hadn’t heard him say much worse. He most certainly had. He may have once or twice coughed to hide a laugh and covered a smile with a well executed yawn. But, as the superior, it was his responsibility to mediate what he could and try to make peace. He was usually reigning Alexander in due to his own lack of filter.

“As much as I would like to ask that you refrain from petty name calling, we are on vacation… technically.”

“Oh, Monsieur Washington… you should not say such things. Alexander will run wild if you do not keep a tight grip. How you say, give an inch?”

George grew stiff at the comment and Alex huffed. “Not to worry, sir. I won’t be around Tommy here long enough to hurl insults anyway.”

He wasn’t stupid enough to have missed the fact that they were standing closer together than the others, perhaps even divided from the rest of the group, if you could call it that. Thomas and James had of course paired off. Lafayette was nearer to them but only just as he had been discussing the latest fashion trends with Hercules. Laurens was to be arriving in a few days. Detained by family… lucky. Angelica and Eliza had opted to travel earlier that morning to settle in. So, if by some magnetism, Alex had side stepped away from the group and closer to George’s side. He could nearly feel the heat radiating off the larger man.

Everyone began to laugh. Everyone but Washington. He looked down at Alexander with a frown. His brow was creased and Alex had the urge, as he often did, to poke his finger into the tension there. “I don’t follow.”

“Alexander doesn’t like the cold. He’s going to hide away inside and pout while the rest of us have a good time.” Hercules said with a deep chuckle.

“I’m going to enjoy myself in the warmth while you all freeze your asses off.” Alex corrected.

“You don’t ski?” George asked as though it was the most baffling thing he’d ever heard.

“I don’t winter,” Alex said looking up at him with a stone cold expression.

While his face may have appeared passive, Alex detected a hint of disappointment behind his dark eyes. He almost retracted it. He could easily play it off as not being experienced enough but willing to learn.

“Alexandre cannot abide the cold, Monsieur. He wilts like a flower at first frost,” Lafayette explained.

“Ah well, more fun for the rest of us.” Jefferson said with a shrug that was anything but cavalier.

“I hope you eat shit and wipe out,” was hissed between cold lips.

“You wouldn’t be there to witness it anyway.”

“Shall we get settled?” piped Madison in some attempt to keep the jovial spirit of most of the group alive.

They made their way towards their cabin. Alex shivered the whole way. He would marvel at the untouched snow or the grandeur of the mountains around them from a window, safely tucked away behind walls and under a blanket. He was quieter than usual; that is to say that he was quiet. He couldn’t find the willpower to make his lips or tongue function.

Cabin was perhaps the wrong word for it. Chateau seemed more fitting. The massive wooden and stone structure appeared to be cut into the side of the mountain. It was framed by deeply colored trees and illuminated by what must be a million lights. Angelica and Eliza were waiting in the doorway. Alex envied the high color in their cheeks and obvious comfort they had settled into. His toes were numb in his boots and his pants were wet and sticking to his legs. They were received with hugs and smiles. He rushed into the heat, too cold to be long impressed by the majesty of his temporary home.

“Jesus, Alex. You might say “hello” first!” Angelica scolded as he rushed past them.

“He’s an asshole when he’s cold.” Hercules said giving the elder Schuyler a side hug.

“Oh, so he’s always cold.” James snickered.

“Isn’t it time for you to take your medicine?” Alex hissed as he rooted around for a blanket.

“Alex!” Eliza smacked him on the arm with the kind of strength that shouldn’t be possible.

He hissed and rubbed the sore flesh. “Oh, so it’s fine if he’s a jerk but when I do it,”

She ignored him in favor of ushering everyone inside. While everyone focused on picking rooms and unpacking, Alex found a massive couch to tuck himself into and kicked off his soaked boots. His feet ached to be dry and warm. He stripped off the army green jacket that had done very little to protect him from the cold. Wrapping himself as tightly as possible in a blanket that felt like puppy fur, he crushed himself into the corner and buried his nose into the fabric, snot be damned.

He was beginning to doze, in a state of heated contentment when the others began to filter in to the room. The noise that came with them slowly pulling him out of his stupor. They were chatting amiably and Alex was just as content to ignore them as they were to continue their idle chatter. He tuned them out in favor of planning the many things he would work on when they left. There were at least a hundred emails that needed attention and he should probably follow up with a couple clients, make some phone calls, he needed to call vendors for a charity event Washington wanted to host to bring in the New Year. 

“Alex, at least pretend to listen. Stop muttering to yourself in the corner.”

“What?” He asked tuning back into reality.

“Jesus…” Madison said just shaking his head.

“We were going to go into town and get some things, maybe do some shopping. Are you coming?” Eliza offered again.

He scrunched his nose up at the idea of leaving the safety and warmth of his new found spot. “I’m okay. My shoes are too soaked anyway.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You can borrow my boots.” Angelica offered in such a nonchalant manner that Alex almost missed her comment.

“I can what now?”

“Oh, this I have to see.” Jefferson snickered behind his hand.

“I’m not wearing your shoes.” Alexander said firmly.

Angelica simply rolled her eyes and stomped over to him, grabbing his upper arm and hauling him off the couch in a scrambling mess. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said as she hauled him behind her up the stairs. She ignored his protests and grappling. What did these girls eat? Why were they both impossibly strong?

He came back a few moments later in a thick jumper, a favored pair of narrow jeans that had perhaps seen better days, and a pair of brown uggs with two chocolate bows on the back. He would never admit that they were impossibly comfortable or that his toes were finally warm. He stomped down the stairs; the very image of a sullen child.

“Holy shit…” Jefferson fell off the edge of couch, clutching his stomach as he laughed dramatically.

“Honestly… they kind of suit you?” Hercules offered, not bothering to smother his smile.

Lafayette eyed him. “I want a pair.”

Everyone joined in the laughter then. Alex wasn’t above the humor as it had been directed away from him. He rolled his eyes in good graces. He did feel ridiculous; his vanity ran deep. But he also understood that most of the people here, the ones he liked anyway, weren’t laughing at him. No, they were laughing for him. He could appreciate their attempt at lifting his mood. His sour demeanor at their situation wouldn’t help anything. So, he’d try to be good spirited about this jumble fuck of a holiday.

“Where’s Mr. Washington?”

“We’re on vacation. I think you can call him George,” Eliza said with an intense stare.

Jefferson snorted and muttered something that sounded like “Unlikely. It’s probably his kink.”

Alex didn’t want to feed into that even a little bit so he ignored it. Any response would feed Jeffereson’s teasing for months. He really didn’t need things with George to get anymore awkward than usual. He honestly doubted he would ever call the older man by his first name out loud.

“The general took a phone call,” Herc said without looking up from his phone, clearly more invested in his social media. It made Alex itch for his own phone to check twitter.

“You know he hates when you call him that.” Lafayette said as he ran a hand over his friend’s head.

As if his ears were ringing, George stepped into the room. Alex nearly threw himself out a window. Who gave him the right!? Washington looked impossible, filling up the door frame with broad shoulders swaddled in a navy sweater. Alex was busy taking note of his entire appearance, not noticing how close they were to one another. He looked up at the older man.

“Welcome back, sir.”

“My apologies. I didn’t think that would take so long. Are we ready?”

If his gaze happened to be primarily focused on Alexander when he spoke, no one deemed it worth mentioning. Everyone began to layer up and Alex joined them with great hesitancy. He stared out the window and his mood began to diminish once more at the thought of stepping outside willingly.

“Lafayette and Hercules can ride with us,” Angelica offered. “The four of you can ride together?”

Alex immediately huffed out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’ll walk, thanks.”

“Alex, you were bitching about the cold before we even got out of the car! You wouldn’t make it three feet.” Hercules said shaking his head.

“I’d pay to see that. What'd ya say, Alex? Wanna put money on you walking to town?” Jefferson offered in the silky tone he only used to goad Alex into something stupid.  
And because Alex just couldn’t stand the fucker, “Oh, you’re on.”

“No.” George said firmly behind him. He turned around and looked at his boss. Oh… okay. That was definitely a final order. He wasn’t walking anywhere. He fizzled out rather fast. “We’ll take my car.”

There was a small amount of tension left in the air. Jefferson just shrugged and waved James over to his car. Angelica looked at Eliza pointedly and they both rolled their eyes at something amusing. “Glad we got that sorted,” the elder sister mused.

Alex braced himself for the cold as they opened the door. The wind hit him with force and he nearly turned tail back into the safety of walls and doors and blankets. He hissed immediately. His shoulders were already tense. He shuffled out after everyone as they loaded into their respective vehicles. He rushed into the passenger side of George’s car, nearly slamming the black door behind him.

When George was settled next to him, the engine hummed to life and they pulled away from the chateau. He was happy to sit in silence, his knees shaking from the cold. His felt the chill in every inch of his body. Mere moments had passed and the back of his thighs were beginning to heat up. He looked at the center console and realized that Washington had turned on his heated seats.

“I wasn’t aware you were sensitive to the cold,” George said finally.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say sensitive.” Alex said with great difficulty, shuddering through the cold. “I just don’t like it.”

“If I had known…”

“It’s not a big deal.” I’ll just suffer through the next few days and curse Jefferson at every chance I get, he thought to himself.

“It was not my intention to cause you discomfort.” George said without looking at him.

Of course that wasn’t his intention. He had always gone out of his way to ensure that Alex felt safe, felt comfortable. Even when there was sexual tension that could be cut with a plastic spoon. George had never pushed Alexander. It bordered on painful. He couldn’t get a read on what it was that George wanted. There were times, a handful really, that Alexander thought maybe, just maybe, he wanted the same thing. And then it was gone in an instant.

“I’ll survive. It’s okay, really. Besides everyone else is pumped to be here.” He settled into the heat of the seat, watching the curves of the road, trees covered in a light layer of snow flying by.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Sir,” he didn’t really know what to say to that. He was at a loss for words. How do you argue with a man who came to decisions with such finality? He took a moment to stare at the man beside him. He showed nothing. The plains of his face were smooth as he concentrated on the road before. Alexander wanted to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, the natural downward curve there always begged to be kissed.

“You aren’t really going to spend the whole trip indoors?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Alex said quickly. He was practically giddy at the idea. He could accomplish so much while the others were out getting frostbite. No interruptions, no distractions. It was, in a way, the perfect vacation. He could hole up with a cup of coffee and his laptop.

“And I can’t convince you otherwise?” George took a glance in his direction.

You can try, Alex nearly blurted out. He held those dark eyes for a moment and bit his lip. If he ever got the nerve to say something remotely teasing, possibly sexual, he might combust. He edged as far as he dared with the man beside him. He had learned to be content with the ridiculous amount of time they spent together and the proximity to Washington’s person that he had gained.

“Wow.” Alex said instead, choosing that moment to look out the window at the town they were approaching.

A cluster of brick buildings and cabins brightly lit with lights despite the early hour. It was charming despite the thick layer of snow surrounding it. In the distance, behind the town were mountains with specks of varying colors zigzagging through the snow.

“Beautiful.” Alex heard from beside him. He simply nodded his head in agreement, not looking away.

They ended up parking on a plowed brick road behind Eliza’s car. Alex was hesitant to get out of the vehicle. He had enjoyed the wafting warm air that had surrounded him. He grimaced when he opened the door; the spell of heat and the presence of George leaving him quickly. He tucked his chin to his chest and shoved his hands into his pockets to protect them.

“There’s a really cute shop nearby that we have to stop at!” Eliza said once everyone gathered. They hustled after her. And that was how they spent the better part of the afternoon. They traipsed from shop to shop, staring and grabbing at the little things. Alex shuffled in the middle of the group in a wise attempt to block the wind. He quickly realized that George had taken to standing in front of him whenever they stepped outside. He gave him a small grateful smile as he stepped in front of him once again.  
By the time they got back to the car, Alex was properly frozen from the knees up. He wriggled his toes and considered the merits of getting his own pair of fluffy boots. He shook his head. No, they were positively heinous. He couldn’t imagine purchasing such an item. He thrust his fingers in front of the air vents once the car was started. He heard George’s muffled laughter. He quickly fixed the male with a glare.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something funny?”

“No, no. Not at all, my boy.”

Alex tried not to flush or wither at the endearment. He simply glared harder to hide his happiness, his interest. He flexed his red fingers and hissed at the odd numbing burn. He glared at his fingers next. He seemed to be trying to will them warm. He heard a rustling from the driver’s side and looked over to catch George retrieving something from his pocket.

“Here. Consider it my apology.”

“For what?” Alex said as he stared at the extended present. It was long and narrow and wrapped in brown paper with a simple red ribbon. It was relatively unassuming but he couldn’t just take it.

“For dragging you into what seems to be your personal hell.” George jostled the present, encouraging him to take it.

“Any place with Thomas Jefferson is my personal hell,” he snarked before taking the present carefully. “Thank you?”

Washington said nothing as he began to peel the ribbon and wrapping paper off the box. “When did you have time to buy anything? I would have noticed…” He mumbled.

“Turns out Jefferson can be rather distracting for you. He served some purpose after all,”

“He’s just such an asshole,” Alex said in defense.

He popped open the top of the box and found a pair of rich leather gloves and a pair of knitted green fingerless gloves. He touched them with chilled fingers and despite how fucking cold he was, he looked at George for approval. He was met with a simple nod of the head and a disarming smile. He practically shoved his hands into the leather and experimentally wiggled his fingers. He sighed happily at the heat and the soft internal fabric.

“Thank you, sir. You didn’t have to.”

“As I said, consider it my apology.”  
“Apology accepted.” Alex said with a smile that was bordering on adoring. He couldn’t care less.

When they returned to the safety of the chateau, Alex’s hands were comfortably warm. He didn’t bother to race towards the door. Instead, he opted to keep a leisurely pace beside his companion. There was a kind of quiet here that Alex almost found charming, if he decided to look past the biting cold and isolation. It was exactly the kind of place he would pick for George; peaceful and empty, away from the chaos of his usual life.

He kicked the snow from his toes as George unbuttoned his own coat and freed his neck from his scarf. He should probably kick the boots off ...but they were comfortable. Instead he dried them on a mat as best as he was able. He hesitantly freed his hands from their new leather home. He tucked the gloves into his coat pocket but held onto the box containing the softer knitted pair. They appeared to be the first party members back. He shuffled towards the kitchen to put on a kettle.

“Tea?” he offered, knowing the answer already.

“Please.” George replied as he shoved the sleeves of his sweater up his forearms. Alex excused himself in a hurry when he became self aware of his ogling. A little exposed flesh shouldn’t cause such an intense want to run through him. Still, whenever he caught sight of a muscle when he wasn’t braced for it, he had to step away to blush in private.

He was watching the kettle heat up on the stove top while his mind raced about how to return George’s gesture. He already knew it was impossible to shop for the man. He’d been doing it unsuccessfully for years. The man wanted for nothing; if he did, he simply bought it. Every birthday or Christmas that had passed, Alex was gifted something personal and thoughtful. Meanwhile, George simply received whatever Alexander deemed useful to some degree or something he wanted to see George in. The blue sweater he was currently wearing was a perfect example. It was a gift from his last birthday.

Alex had admired it only on the basis that it would look good on his boss and impulsively bought it. He hadn’t bothered to leave a note. He left it on the man’s desk and proceeded with his day as per usual. He had no choice really. George had gifted him with a beautifully bound leather notebook just weeks before for his own birthday.

Now, stuck in the mountains, too chilled to return to town with any eagerness, he was struck by his lack of foresight. Of course. Of course George was thoughtful and bought a gift while Alex had been busy arguing with Thomas fucking Jefferson. Of course he had left the gift he secreted away in his apartment.

The kettle whistled and he stirred back to reality. He dropped a tea bag into two identical large white mugs and filled them with steaming water. Carefully, with as much grace as he was able, he carried them back to the massive living room.

Soft jazz instrumentals filled the air. George was settled into the chair nearest the spot Alex had tucked into earlier. He had basically claimed the spot as his own. He wore his glasses and was reading. Alex swallowed thickly as he choked down his own awareness. He settled the tea on the end table between them and curled up in his spot, draping a blanket over his lap, his ugg covered feet pinning the fabric tightly against his rear.

George looked up from his book to see Alex pulling on the fingerless gloves. He quirked a dark brow. “I don’t want my hands to get cold,” he explained quickly. Obviously it had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to enjoy what had been given to him by the man he was in love with. He wasn’t purposely showing his delight. The corner of Washington’s mouth quirked up a bit and Alex glared at him. “Shut up.”

He turned back to his book. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You don’t have to.”

He was about half way through his cup of tea, enjoying the smooth lull of music and the occasional turn of a page when he heard the door creak open and his friends and Thomas pour in. They seemed refreshed by the cold. He hated them for the cheer they brought with them. They were chatting excitedly.

“We’re back!” Angelica announced.

“We brought food!” Hercules yelled louder.

“We brought the makings of food,” Gilbert corrected.

And just like that, the air of domesticity was broken. They were once again surrounded by colleagues and friends. George looked at him and offered a small smile before placing his book by his empty mug. He rose from the chair in a grand movement. Alex moved to stand. He was halted by a warm hand being placed on the top of his head.

Alex was torn between closing his eyes and enjoying the highly unusual contact and looking at the man to verify that this was actually happening. He decided he wanted verification. He peered up minutely. George ruffled the top of his head slightly. He didn’t press into the contact. He truly didn’t. He simply shifted…

“Stay.” A firm but easy command.

“Yeah. Okay.” he uttered dumbly.

When George left the room, Alex let the confusion and mild panic show on his face. What just happened? That was… tender and hot and more than a little strange. He didn’t get to dwell on it very long before his lap was full of slightly damp, very cold hooligans.

“You will be missing out, mon ami! The mountain is beautiful. The weather? Parfait! Come. You must ski with us tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sure you guys will be more than happy to regale me with tales of your icy adventures.”

“S’not ice, man. It’s snow… come on. Don’t you want to watch Jefferson fall down?”

“Unlikely. He is very good.” Gilbert said with a shrug.

“We’ll make it happen!” Hercules offered.

“I’d rather stay here, where I am safe and have internet access.”

“You are no fun.”

“Yes. You are the opposite of fun. You’re like a boring pet.”

“I’m not a pet!” Alex laughed and tried to wriggle out from the weight of both their bodies.

“Someone should tell Mr. Washington that,” Hercules said softly behind a laugh.

Alex wriggled harder and somehow they ended up in a tangled, laughing, violent mess on the floor. The more they tried to free themselves from their entanglement, the more they failed. Each attempt resulted in a fit of laughter and straining. They had to be pulled apart when dinner was ready.

Dinner was accompanied by wine… a lot of wine. Alex was warm and in good spirits and had no reason not to agree to a snowball fight. Afterall, he couldn’t risk missing the opportunity to lob a ball of compressed, cold water at Thomas. In fact, it was his only goal now. He and most of the others -- George decided not to partake-- clumsily struggled into their layers and headed out into the dark.

All was going well. He had managed to hit Thomas a total of 4 times: once in the back, twice in the shoulder and one glorious time in the face. He was darting around, ignoring the burning in his limbs and ears, avoiding snowballs. His coordination despite his inebriation was damn near competent. All was going well… until it wasn’t.

In a flash, he went from drunkenly giggling as he tried to escape Eliza shoveling snow down the back of his coat to looking at the vast blanket of stars above them. His first thought should have been the raging pain in his ankle.

“Motherfucker! Cold!It’s cold!”

He felt the weight of the snow holding his form and he struggled to rise up from it. His ears and hair were damp and chilled instantly. He flailed his arms about before him as he tried to use any strength at all to get up. He was however far from sober and all his coordination prior had been knocked out of him. And because apparently he was traveling with a bunch of assholes, his companions laughed at him until they were doubled over.

“He-H-he looks like a turned over turtle!” hiccuped James, the one he least expected it from. Dour fucker usually had the decency to help first, laugh later.

“Will s-s-someone get me the fuck out of the snow!” He shivered out.

Two sets of hands gripped his flailing arms and hoisted him from the snow. He was only sorry to say that is was Angelica and Eliza. His friends were too busy taking pictures and wiping away their tears. Unfortunately for him, the ladies planted him upright as his weight carried him. His ankle spasmed and he hollered in pain. His vision went white.

One moment he was seeing stars and the next Washington’s face was directly in front of him and he was definitely not upright. He recognized the living room and the clinging damp of his clothes caused him to shiver despite the heat around him. His brow furrowed and he tried to sit up. He was stopped by a large hand pressing into the center of his chest.

“...the most childish behaviour. This is absolutely ridiculous. To think a group of your age felt the need to get drunk and play in the dark! I hope you’re all incredibly pleased with yourselves.”

“Sir, I hardly see how this is our fault.” The glare Jefferson received didn’t stop him. “Besides. He’s probably fine. He just wanted to get out of skiing.”

“Not another word for you, Thomas.” George hissed

“When did I agree to ski?” Alex asked hazily. The room wasn’t as clear as it ought to have been but he could still make out the lineup of his friends and their shame filled faces. They looked positively sullen.

“After the 8th glass of wine…” Lafayette offered with a smothered laugh.

He got an elbow to each rib.

“Who let me have 8 glasses of wine?”

“He’s clearly feeling better… we’ll just…”

They scurried away as George loomed over him. His face was half rage and half worry. Alex nearly laughed. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such an interesting combination on that handsome face. He shifted his weight and grimaced at the ache in his ankle.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Am I getting the couch wet? We should move.” He tried to sit up but the hand on his chest hadn’t moved.

“Alexander.”

“Yessir.”

“I’m only going to ask once more.” His eyes were dark and serious. “Where does it hurt?”

He deserved some forgiveness for his distraction. He wasn’t sober and George was disarmingly handsome when he had all his capacities. He got lost staring at the mouth that was set in a grim line. He finally remembered the question and muttered a soft, almost unheard “ankle”.

George was moving to look at it before he could convince him otherwise. He winced as his foot was lifted off the couch and nearly kicked George as he tugged the boot off his foot. There was obvious swelling and a light bruise forming.

“Oh… it doesn’t usually look like that.”

“I figured as much.”

“That’s not good, right?”

“It looks like a sprain. We’ll get a doctor here to find out.” He gently placed the throbbing limb back on the couch and moved to stand.

“Wait! You don’t mean like right now.”

“That is exactly what I meant.”

Jesus. “Don’t you think it can wait? Say, I dunno… until morning?” There was no answer. “Mr. Washington… I don’t know exactly what time it is but it’s too late to be calling doctors about sprains.”  
“It’s a little after one.” He said as though it weren’t that late.

“You are not calling a doctor right now!” Alex tried to shuffle himself upright without moving his ankle. George was instantly by his side, using his arms to help ease the movement. If it were anyone else, Alex would have smacked their hands away and told them to stop coddling him. However, the pressure that George applied didn’t speak of hesitancy. It wasn’t light as though he thought Alex were fragile. It was sure and firm. 

It was delightful.

Sitting upright now, Alex was much too close to George. He could smell the bourbon on his breath and the waning fragrance of his cologne. He could feel the waves of heat rolling off his massive body. He swallowed thickly.

“No doctor.” George aquiested.

“Good.” Alex said softly.

The lights had been lowered hours ago, probably around the time the second bottle of wine had been opened. George’s jazz was still playing in the background and someone had definitely turned on the electric fireplace. It reeked of ambience.

Feeling awkward and too near to being reckless, he looked down at his lap instead of at the face before him. He took a deep breath and focused on anything else. “So, it’s late.” he offered awkwardly.

“I noticed.”

Okay. That didn’t seem to work. What else? “I’m wet.” Fuck! Wrong direction. George took a noticeably sharp breath. He didn’t move away though. Then again, why should he? It wasn’t inherently sexual. He hadn’t meant it to be. It was just what was on his mind. “‘S cold.” That was also on his mind.

“I’ll assist you up to your room.”

Ever the gentleman. He wasn’t expecting to be swooped up and carried away so swiftly. He struggled to conceal his awe and confusion. “Sir, I’m sure I can walk…”

“And I’m sure we won’t be finding out tonight.”

He bit his lip and decided that he was still drunk enough to simply enjoying being held. George jostled him very little, despite having to carry him up what seemed to be an impossibly tall staircase. He opened the door with surprising ease; merely redistributing Alex’s weight to grab the handle. Alex felt around for the light switch seeing as he had a free hand. When the room was illuminated, he didn’t bother to take in the surroundings. He imagined it would be much like the rest of the house. He was deposited gently near the edge of the bed. George kept his arms around him, waiting for him to find his footing. They were chest to chest.

“You smell really good,” his drunken brain let slip.

“You say that whenever you drink.”

“I probably mean it then.”

“Alex…”

And because he ought to be forgiven due to the combination of pain and alcohol, he said what was on his mind. Even though he definitely wasn’t drunk enough to use it as an excuse later, even though he didn’t really know what would happen, even though there was probably a shit show of rejection and awkwardness coming his way, he let his mouth run away from him.

“I’m still wet and ’s still cold.”

“I’ll let you get changed. Where are your clothes?”

“Dunno.” He really didn’t. It wasn’t as though bringing in his luggage had been his priority today.

“I’ll find you something.” George moved to step away but Alex’s hands grabbed the knitted fabric near his waist.

“You’re wearing the sweater.” He acknowledged drunkenly.

“I wear it frequently. It’s one of my favorites.” Did his hands flex against his arms?

“I got you this sweater.”

“I know.”

Silence filled the air. He was trying to mull that over in his mind. George knew that he bought the sweater. George knew and he wore it frequently because it was one of his favorites. The sweater he bought was George’s favorite. What did that mean? What did any of this mean?

“You bought me gloves.” That seemed like a weird thing to point out in that moment. He could have asked how George knew about the gift instead.

“Yes.”  
“Why?”

While he waited for a response, one that Washington seemed to be debating heavily, he looked up at the man. Not a great move. His vision was still soft and while his hands were cold and his limbs chilled, his chest was still warm from the wine. George was looking down at him with a heavy expression before it eased and the tension left his large body.

“Because otherwise I was going to hold them.”

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Your hands. They were cold. My first instinct was to hold them to keep them warm.”

“So, you bought me gloves?” His head tipped to the side with confusion.

“To deter myself.”

“Okay.” He pursed his lips. “Well… my whole body is pretty cold right now. You could hold all of me?” he offered.

It was hardly seductive. He was standing with all his weight on one ankle, he was damp and disheveled, his eyes felt pretty heavy. George chuckled. Chuckled might have been the wrong word for it. It was a kind of low, deep laugh that felt secret. It was the kind of laugh you save for intimate moments, for someone.

“Oh, honey. You’re drunk and in pain.”

“So?”

“I’m hardly going to take advantage of that.”

“You’ve had drinks too.”

“I can hold my liquor.”

“I can hold my liquor.” Alex mocked.

“You’re a real brat when you’re drunk.” George said as he shook his head

“What’re you gonna do? Spank me?” Well, there’s an idea.

“Watch it, young man.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out what happens when you run that pretty little mouth.”

“Promises, promises.” Wait… “You think my mouth is pretty?”

“It’s late. You’re injured. Goodnight.”

“It’s late. You could stay here.”

“Alexander… my room is down the hall. It’s barely a walk.”

“Still. I’d feel better knowing you were here.”

He wasn’t above pouting. He was actually quite good at it. It worked on his friends all the time. And he was pretty pathetic at the moment. A little sympathy went a long way. George hadn’t pulled away yet. In fact, his hands were stroking up and down Alex’s arms in a delicious rhythm.

“You can’t always have your way.” But he made no move to leave.

He hummed thoughtfully and let his fists clamp around the thick knit. “I’ll need help changing.”

“It’s just your ankle.” His tone was far from firm.

Alex let his arms crawl up George’s sides, slowly working towards his chest where he let them rest. Naturally, George’s arms drifted away from his biceps towards his back. He felt the hesitancy. He really wanted to feel anything but that. He needed him to shake the remaining doubt.

“If you’re going to go, leave the sweater.” He let his fingers dig into the fabric, dragging firmly over a well muscled chest. He watched as George closed his eyes. He felt a new tension fill the man. Hook.

“And why should I do that?” George asked through gritted teeth.

“It smells like you. If I can’t have you…” Line.

“Alexander,” George warned from the edge he was clearly on the precipice of.

“Come on, sir. Just…” Alex stretched on his good foot. He pressed ever so slightly against George. He let his breath ghost against the taller man as he spoke. “Give it to me.”

“Damn it all.”  
Sinker.

The arms on his back shifted quickly. His hips were gripped firmly. He didn’t have time to hide a smile. His mouth was claimed with the kind of fervor that was met by his own desperation. He dug his fingers in further, fearful that this moment would end. All the want that had surmounted… all of it paled in comparison to the relief he felt now.

George kissed him as though a damn had been broken. He wasn’t tender or cautious. He kissed like a man possessed. Rather, he kissed as though he had always been kissing Alex. He carved ownership into the younger man’s lips in a moment. Alex surrendered happily. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on… literally.

He couldn’t say how long it went on. He only knew that one moment he had been having a marvelous time, perfectly content to never breathe again, and then George was pulling back. He heaved a breath.

“So, you’re staying?” he asked hopefully.

George’s glower was diminished by the light in his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

He kissed Alex again. Gently this time. A dry, slow press of their lips. Alex leaned into it, forgetting for a moment that he was in fact injured. He shifted his weight wrong and hissed into George’s mouth. “Fuck!”

George stiffened instantly. As mad as Alex wanted to be that the mood was ruined, he was distracted by the pain he was currently wincing through. He didn’t get to complain. He was sitting on the bed before he could think to do it himself.

“You should be resting.” George said.

It wasn’t really directed at him. It was a statement he was using to scold himself and a reason to leave. Alex was in pain, yes. More than that, he couldn’t bear the idea of George leaving now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get this again. Hell, he wasn’t sure it was really happening now.

“I’ll rest when I’m tired.”

“You’re tired now.”

“Not yet. But you could try to wear me out.”

George cupped the side of his face with one hand. “No. I’m going to find you something to wear and get you something for the pain and you are going to sleep. You’re drunk and injured.”

“And incredibly turned on. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Darling.”

“You’re not fair.”

George muttered, “such a brat.”

“I’ll stop being a brat when you give me what I want.”

“That’s not how this works. That’s the end of it.”

“Fine.” Alex huffed. He crossed his arms and George rolled his eyes dramatically. “That’s just fine. I’ll just stay here, all alone and cold and if I need more painkillers I’ll hobble around in the middle of the night to get them and fall down the stairs and actually get hurt.”

“You are actually hurt.”

“Just my feelings.”

George scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Fine. You win. I’ll stay.” The smile that he got in return was too eager. “To sleep, Alexander. We will just be sleeping.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Take the win, son. Just… take the win. We’ll get to other things tomorrow.” When you’re sober needn’t be said aloud.

Alex decided to take the win. George departed momentarily. When he came back he was in soft pants and a t-shirt and for once Alex didn’t have to look away or pretend he wasn’t out right admiring the shape and breadth of the man. His sweater was draped over his arm, he held a pill bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He had also managed to find a wrap for Alex’s ankle.

In a matter of moments, Alex had been drugged, hydrated, wrapped and somehow George had found his luggage in the room. He was tucked into a pair of fleece pajama pants and his rattiest t-shirt. He was about to complain about the frigid air for the umpteenth time when George invaded his space and tugged his blue sweater over Alex’s head. Alex didn’t blush. Truly, he didn’t.

George folded the bedsheets down and helped position Alex, propping his foot up on a pillow. He then shut off the lights and crawled in beside him. There was a long awkward silence before Alex couldn’t take it anymore.  
“Sir… I’m cold.”

George laughed and inched closer to hold him. His wry grin was hidden in the dark but Washington knew. There was a lingering alertness but eventually the warm pressure of George beside him in combination with the low hum of alcohol in his system caused him to drift away.

The sun beat through the windows but George continued to law beside him peacefully. George was laying beside him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He attempted a slow and lazy stretch and the pain that rocketed through him assured him that he definitely wasn’t dreaming now. He hissed quietly and willed his ankle to stop giving him trouble. George shifted in his sleep. His face pressed closer to the top of Alex’s head and his arm tightened around his waist.

Alex couldn’t really think of a time he had been this content.And yet… there was something nagging in the back of his mind. Washington had promised they would get to other things tomorrow. Funnily enough, tomorrow had turned into today. It seemed only right that Alex got the morning started on the right foot.

With great difficulty, Alex slid out of George’s embrace. He waited until his useless ankle was hanging over the edge of the bed to sit up; a clever trick if he did say so himself. It could hardly cause him trouble if there was no contact with anything. He looked at the sleeping man. His face was serene, his arm still extended from where Alex had been resting. His shirt had ridden up ever so slightly and Alex decided that was a good place to start.

He maneuvered himself so that he was now between George’s legs. His fingers found the skin and he let them trace the edge of fabric. Hips shifted from the contact. He smiled to himself and continued his ministrations. He let his fingers dance under the hem before moving to follow the edge of George’s pants.

Turns out, George Washington got morning wood just like any other man. Alex was tickled with his discovery. Never one to waste time, Alex pulled the drawstring and tugged the front of his pants down as quickly as possible. He took a moment to admire the very thing he had fantasized about for far too long. His mind hadn’t been far off but he was still in awe.

He took hold of it without hesitation. He didn’t feel any. All he felt was want and fire and the desire to please. He wanted George to wake up to pleasure, to get sleepy sounds out of the man. Without much ceremony, he licked the palm of his hand before spitting into it. He gripped the shaft and started with lazy strokes. He watched as George shifted. He tried to remain focused on the task… well, in hand.

He worked patiently for once. He took his time and let his hand move slowly, deliberately. His grip was firm and his movements methodical. He thumbed the head and received a sleepy grumble. He smiled to himself and decided that his patience was at the limit. He licked his lips and then the head. The resounding hum was quiet but encouraging. He was mouthing at the head of George’s length when he felt a hand grip his hair. He stilled and looked up, eyes wide and mouth parted over the dark girth he had been lavishing with lazy attention. He hummed his attention.

“You’re an absolute monster,” George murmured through a sleepy heavy voice.

Alex popped off dramatically. “There are worse ways to wake up,” he offered. His hands didn’t stop stroking the length.

“There are generally conversations that take place before these situations,” George said slowly.

“You basically promised.”

“That’s dubious at best. We really need to have a conversation about you getting your way.”

Alex hummed and eyed George hungrily before deciding that he was hardly in the mood for a lecture. He had better plans. And as the older man wasn’t actually complaining, he saw no need to delay. His mouth went back to work. The hand in his hair tightened. He watched George tip his head back, digging into the pillows. He wanted to bite at the exposed neck. Instead, moved one hand to dig into the muscled thighs that surrounded him.

He received a small grunt. Having had his fill of leisure, he began to set a steady pace. His mouth was wet and sloppy and he bobbed and licked. His hand working at anything his mouth didn’t touch. He caressed the underside of the shaft with his tongue. There was a sharp tug at his scalp that had him moaning against the flesh. He was dragged away with a pop.

George didn’t let go of his hair. Alex blinked up at him with watery eyes. His lips were red and wet and swollen, hanging open as he choked down air. He looked positively whorish. George used the grip on his hair to push him back. He let himself be guided, minding not to jostle his ankle.

“You’re impatience is something else.” George said as he shifted closer, shaking his head in disbelief.

Their noses brushed and Alex nudged him in an attempt to get more contact. It didn’t work. How the man could be as hard as he was and still restrain himself was beyond Alex. He whined in the back of his throat, low and needy. The answering pull of his hair caused his blood to boil.

“Patience,” George said, letting his tongue darted out to flick against Alex’s upper lip, “is a virtue.”

One he did not possess. He wanted fiercely and he wanted now. He was consumed with a different kind of need now that he was under Washington’s attention. He shuddered but waited. And he waited some more. George took his time.

His breath ghosted over his face as he traced the shape of Alexander’s nose with the tip of his own. He drifted away, across his cheek bone and down to the curve of his jaw. The maddening grip in his hair never faltered. Alexander was devastated by his need for contact. His hands gripped at dark thighs impatiently. He needed some sort of anchor if he were to get through this.

The painstaking ministrations continued. Alex felt George’s breath against his neck and he thought he might die if he didn’t feel George’s lips on him soon. He tried his best to remain still. His breath has heavy and loud. His body was on fire. Something… anything!

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you like this?”

If it was as long as Alex had waited… forever. In this moment? An eternity. He felt a hand move up to catch his ribcage and he nearly cried. He was entirely too on edge. He pulled against the hand in his hair, not daring to move his hands, he shifted his face to rest his cheek on George’s temple. The pull meant to restrain him only urged him forward. “Please, sir.” he whined out. Not quite begging yet but definitely pleading.

“Impatient,” George said before placing a hot kiss to the skin of his neck. Alex keened. “Greedy,” he said before dropping another kiss behind Alex’s ear. Alex sighed, leaning into the touch. He could hardly disagree. “Reckless.” A nip to the delicate flesh of his ear lobe.

Alex hissed out a yes. Whether it was to what George was saying or the sensations he was providing was irrelevant. He wanted to crawl into his lap and paw at him. He wanted to close the leagues of space between their bodies and feel every inch of the man who tortured him.

“What am I going to do with you?” George asked into his ear, using his grip in Alex’s hair to tilt his head and limit his movement.

“I have a long list of ideas,” Alex said with as much composure as he could. He wasn’t aware of George’s hand leaving his ribs but suddenly his ass had a startling burn growing. George had spanked him. He moaned wantonly. God, George Washington had just fucking spanked him.

“Cheeky,”

He bit his tongue. He could provoke the man later. Right now, if he had any hope at all of getting some relief, he really should keep his mouth shut. Instead, he tried to nudge at the man… get his attention back to the contact he so gravely needed.

George took pity on him. He pressed their mouths together. Alex melted into the kiss. His hands went from clinging to thick thighs to wrapping around his shoulders. He opened his mouth and let George conquer him. He was helpless to try to win in his present state. A large, warm hand moved to cup his jaw, holding him steady while the other kneaded and pawed at his rear.

In a swift movement, Alex went from being between George’s thighs, aching to feel more of him, to being on his back, the towering length of George hovering above him. He was momentarily amazed that his ankle hadn’t been irritated by the movement. He could see the definition of his biceps and triceps as he lorded over him. His hands instantly clutched at the muscle. He wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

George stared at him for a moment. His gaze burning through Alex. He shifted a bit under the scrutiny. “What?”

“I’m trying to decide if I’m still dreaming.”

Alex smiled and laughed before shifting his hands up to George’s shoulder blades. He used the leverage to cant his hips upwards, in a purposeful thrust. George groaned at the contact. Alex concurred. The thrill of the contact that he had been refused until now was positively exquisite.

“Still think you’re dreaming?” He asked playfully, his fingers tracing the lines of definition in George’s arms.

“It’s still possible.”

George buckled his elbows and leaned down to claim his mouth again. Alex let George take control of the kiss while his hands found the edge of the t-shirt that obscured the broad plain of his chest. He broke the kiss only to remove the offending article. George gratefully leaned back to help him. The view was… spectacular. He could write home about that.

“Oh, fuck you.” He said as he marvelled at the man’s body.

“Actually,” George said as his hands slid under the fabric of his own sweater, his large hands seemingly burning the flesh he touched, “this is more of a fuck you situation.”

“Oh,” Alex said dumbly. Fingers found his nipples. “Oh!”

“Indeed.” George said with a wry smirk that betrayed exactly how pleased he was to toy with the boy, with his boy.

Alex didn’t have to wait long before George decided he wasn’t going to keep teasing around fabric. He rid Alex of every ounce of clothing quickly and began to worship every inch of exposed flesh. He touched and kissed whatever he laid bare. His touch was everywhere… everywhere except where Alex needed it most.

He was aching. He was leaking and close to weeping. He begged without knowing. He arched and twisted and cried under masterful hands and a possessive mouth. Still, George took his time. He wasn’t tender so much as slow. He was determined to mark as much flesh as he could. He laid claim. 

“Please,” Alex whined. “Fuck. Please… touch me!”

“I’ve been touching you.” George gripped his hip with bruising force as his teeth grazed a pebbled nipple. “I’m touching you now.”

“You know what I mean!” he hissed out. His fingers dug into George’s shoulders. He had been pawing at him, trying to drag his mouth to his own for a fair amount of time before he realized he could do nothing but let himself be tortured. And what sweet torture!

“I do.” 

Alex threw his head back and groaned loudly in frustration. He was about to start kicking and screaming. He needed to be stroked, to be held, to be pumped. He needed George to wrap one of those stupidly large hands around his erection and give him some relief.

“Let’s see just how patient you can be,” George said against the skin above his navel.

What the hell? What had everything up to this point been? He gave George a startled look and then scowled. “Sir…” he warned. He didn’t have much left in him. Waiting wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He had done a fair share of it before this trip. He had agonized over his feelings, his actions regarding his boss, refused to acknowledge any of the signs that his feelings could have been remotely returned. He was within reach of what he had longed for and he still couldn’t have it. How much more would Washington ask of him?

The tears that leaked from his eyes were half frustration and half absolute rage. He was about to tell the man to fuck off when George grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. He pressed a soft kiss to Alex’s temple before telling him not to move. He gave a firm squeeze before he moved down the smaller man’s body.

Oh!

His legs were parted carefully; Washington still completely aware of the ankle Alex had long forgotten. He shifted his hips, using a long arm to grab a pillow to shove under him. Alex flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about this. He definitely had. A lot. However, he hadn’t exactly thought it was ever actually going to happen.  
The first flat stroke over his perineum sent a shiver up his spine. He instinctively wriggled away. Washington gripped the back of his thighs to hold him steady and he dove in. He was a man starved. Alex was a heaving mess. Each stroke and caress drove him further towards madness. He positively lost it when George began to work his tongue inside him. His fingers clawed at the bed sheets, some semblance of obedience that remained in the corner of his mind. He was far from silent.

When one of George’s hands left his thigh, he thought he was finally going to relent. Instead, sturdy fingers joined his eager tongue. Alex’s hand flew to the scalp of George’s head. Within a moment, George was gone and a smack echoed through the room. The burn on the back of his thighs did nothing to quell the hunger in him. If anything, it fuelled him.

“I told you not to move.” Alex panted aggressively and shook his head, his tear stained cheeks brushing against the bedspread. “I suppose we’ve found your limit.”

Fearing that meant that he was done, that his inability to control himself had somehow ruined this moment he flung his hands back above his head and licked his lips. His pupils were blown and he was without a doubt gone in more ways than one. “I’m sorry. I won’t move again. I promise.”

There was a hefty pause from George. He looked contemplative before his eyes were warm, endearing. He pressed a tender kiss to the inside of his thigh. Then another. And more until Alex was a soft, mess. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“‘M not worried,” Alex lied.

“You did so good,” George said, the length of him crawling back over Alex. “Apparently, you possess more patience than I gave you credit for.” He kissed the younger man. It was hot and wet and open. Sloppy. How Alex felt in that moment.

He hummed. He didn’t know how else to respond. And then George’s fingers were back in him. He was overjoyed. His hips followed each movement. He was being worked open more thoroughly now. What had been a game of building arousal had become a proficient undertaking. He mouthed at George as best he was able through moans. When George removed his fingers, his discontent was quickly replaced with elation.

“Alexander,” George started.

“Yes. God, yes.” He said between kisses. His hands clung to whatever flesh he could. He didn’t know when George had lost his pants. He didn’t care. He didn’t know when the man had managed to find lube, the slick feeling between his legs obviously not from spit. He could think about all that later.

He was focused on the pressure mounting inside him. He was overwhelmed when he felt George bottom out. Their foreheads were pressed together and for a long moment, it was just them in that moment. The sweat of their sticky bodies was irrelevant. And then they were moving.

The rhythm of their bodies was slow at first; an introduction. But the fire was stoked and they began to rut with a fury. Alex moaned when his mouth was free, his cries echoing through the chamber with abandon. George took everything he had to give and returned it ten fold. Alex could have come untouched. He was sure of it. But then George gripped him and his world exploded.

Expletives flew in a frenzy from his mouth. He wasn’t coherent at all. He would only really remember the sensations that left him mindless. He would remember George’s low moans, the way his hips slammed into him. The coil of heat in his stomach wound tighter and tighter until he was pleading, nearly weeping. His release was intense. Whatever rooted him to reality, tethered him to earth snapped and he fell over. George was close behind him.

It was minutes before he came back to himself. He was panting and his hands were shaking as they stroked up and down George’s sweaty back delicately. A slow smile stole over his features and he began to laugh. It was light and free.

“Holy shit,” he said finally.

George smiled down at him, their hips still joined. “Language, but yes… holy shit.”

Alex was still chuckling lightly as George pressed soft kisses into his collarbone when the door flung open. Alex, not completely back to his usual senses simply stared wide eyed. George grumbled.

“Alex!” Laurens shouted from the door. He stopped in his gleeful tracks and went white. His hand flung over his eyes. “Fuck! Oh god. I’m so s- oh god!” He ran from the room, not bothering to close it behind him.

Alex looked up at George. He looked as impassive as always. Though he was beginning to pull away. Alex tugged him back down into another slow kiss before releasing him. “Well… this’ll be fun.”

George smacked his thigh but smiled and shook his head. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Alex pouted as George pulled out of him and helped him sit up.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you later,” George said with an eyebrow raise that made Alex want to pull him back down for round two.

“Alex! You’ll never guess who’s here,” Hercules called from the stairs.

Without ceremony, Alex shrugged into the sweater George threw at him while George dressed. He was helped into a clean pair of jeans.They descended the stairs together, Alex hobbling along George’s side. There was still a kind of euphoria surrounding them despite the commotion. They entered the room and Alex almost turned around and hobbled out.

"Alexander. Sir." A smile and nod was directed at each of them.

"Burr?"

Alex shot John an incredulous look. What in the actual fuck was this shit show of a holiday? Now he was stuck in a frozen hellhole with a sprained ankle, Thomas fucking Jefferson, Aaron Burr and his best friend had definitely seen his boss' ass while he was still balls deep inside him. He'd never take a holiday with these fuckers again. That was for sure.


End file.
